


Lay Down Your Armor

by adiwriting



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: But only discussed, Cannon level violence referred to, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adiwriting/pseuds/adiwriting
Summary: After a terrifying ordeal, Michael and Alex just want each other.Prompt: Patching each other up
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 19
Kudos: 179





	Lay Down Your Armor

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing Roswell NM fic and my first fic in about 2 years. This is me playing with some prompts while I try and figure out Michael and Alex's voices and remember how to write.

“Where is he?” Alex asks Liz and Rosa the moment he jumps out of his car. 

“He’s inside,” Rosa says at the same time Liz says, “You’re bleeding!” 

Alex ignores Liz’s hands reaching out for him. He rushes into Max’s place, eyes darting around frantically until he hears arguing coming from the bedroom. 

“Don’t touch me! I’ve gotta go back!” Michael yells. 

The sound of his voice is the softest chord, but he can’t breathe, not until he sees him. 

Alex steps into the bedroom and the moment his eyes lock with Michael’s, his heart slams back into his chest and he takes his first real breath in three days. 

He’s okay. 

He’s alive. 

They didn’t kill him. 

“Alex!” Michael jumps up from where Isobel, Max, and Kyle were trying to hold him down on the bed and rushes into his arms. Alex squeezes him as tight as his injured arm will allow. 

He takes several steadying breaths as he tells himself that everything is alright now. It’s okay. 

“I thought that you—” he struggles to get out and it’s only then that he realizes he’s been crying. 

“I know,” Michael says, face buried in his neck and it’s only barely audible. “I thought the same thing. When they took me, they said that you were… that you were…” 

“Dead,” Alex says. “They told you I was dead.” 

Alex doesn’t need to feel Michael’s nod to know it’s true. Nor does he need to feel how Michael is holding him like he might suddenly disappear. He knows it because it’s what they’d told him. For the past three days, he’s had to live in a world where Michael was dead and he hadn’t been able to save him. 

He’d made a promise to always protect him and he hadn’t been able to do that. 

“I’m so sorry,” Alex cries. 

“What?” Michael pulls back to rest his forehead against Alex’s. “What are you… What?” His voice is shaky and his entire body is trembling. 

“I was supposed to protect you,” Alex says as he tries to force his breathing to slow down. He can do this. Michael won’t calm down as long as Alex is still panicking. He needs to be the one to pull them back. He’s the soldier. He’s the one who trains for high stress situations. He can get them through this. He just needs to breathe. 

“I don’t care about that,” Michael says. “I care that you died!” 

“I didn’t. I’m right here,” Alex promises, cradling Michael’s face with his hands. “I’m right here.” 

“But you weren’t,” he says, breathing only picking up speed. “And I couldn’t feel you anymore.” 

Michael’s hand moves to his chest, right where his handprint had been. 

“I’m right here,” Alex says calmly, taking deep soothing breaths despite the fact that his own heart is still racing. “I’m right here, okay? Just breathe with me. I’m right here.” 

Michael nods and tries to copy his breathing. 

It takes a few minutes, but as Michael slowly stops trembling, Alex feels his own heart beat finally return to a normal rhythm. 

“Not to interrupt, but I really need to treat… well, both of you actually,” Kyle says, not unkindly. 

“Don’t touch me!” Michael yells as the furniture starts to shake and a few picture frames fall to the floor and shatter. 

“I’m right here,” Alex says, stroking his cheeks in reassurance. Alex has seen this before. Hell, Alex has been here before. You can’t serve in war without witnessing men at their breaking point. Trauma fucks with even the strongest men. He never wanted this for Michael. 

“I’ll take care of him,” Alex says, pulling Michael’s head to his chest so he can hold him while he talks to everyone else. 

“No offense, but somebody really needs to look at you too,” Kyle says. 

Alex shakes his head. Carding his hands through Michael’s hair. It’s tangled and matted, and Alex tries to convince himself it’s just dirt and grime he’s feeling, not blood. 

“I can heal you both, but Michael hasn’t let me touch him,” Max adds. 

No. He’s sure Michael hasn’t. 

Alex never wanted anyone to touch him either post-battle. He still remembers giving that poor nurse a black eye right after he’d lost his leg. 

Fuck. Alex hates this. He’s the soldier. He’s the one that enlisted. He’s the one who is trained for this, not Michael. Alex did everything in his power to make sure that Michael never had to experience the violence of war. Not again. Not after that night in the shed. And yet, here they are. Because he’d failed. Alex had failed to protect him. 

“I’ve got him,” Alex says, placing a soothing kiss to the top of Michael’s head when Michael squeezes him harder. 

“Alex—” 

“Kyle,” Alex cuts him off, which earns him glares from Max and Isobel. “No offense, to any of you. But none of you know what this is like. I’ll patch Michael up.” 

“Are you sure?” Kyle asks, but Alex can see that he’s already resigned himself to being sidelined for this one. 

“Yeah. 12 years in and I still remember all my field training. It’ll be fine.” 

Kyle nods. “My bag is on the bed. It should have all the medical supplies you need. Just call me when you’re ready. That cut on your head should really get some stitches or it’s going to leave a nasty scar.” 

Alex nods. Kyle leaves the easiest. Max and Isobel linger a minute longer, both looking at Michael longingly. 

“We’re just outside if you need us,” Isobel says sadly, before pulling Max out of the room. 

“You’re hurt,” Michael says, once they are alone. 

“I’m alive.” Alex leads him over to sit on the bed. “That’s all that matters.” 

Michael gives him an exhausted smile and nods. Alex looks him up and down, assessing the state he’s in. 

His skin and clothes are covered in a thick layer of blood, sweat, and grime. There’s a clean cut across his neck that was likely caused by a blade. There is a hole in his shirt with a giant pool of blood, which seems to be his biggest injury. Both of his wrists have clear ligature marks, but one seems especially swollen and possibly broken. When Alex’s eyes move back up his body, he notices just how pale and clammy Michael is. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Guerin,” Alex says softly. 

Michael shakes his head, and Alex gives him a confused look. He’d been comfortable with him touching him a moment ago. Is he not going to let anyone patch him up?

“You first,” Michael says. 

Alex rolls his eyes. “It’s not a competition.” 

Michael raises his eyebrows at him before pushing Alex’s jacket to the side and pulling up his shirt. “No?” 

Oh right. That. 

In all of Alex’s panic, he’d completely forgotten about that. He hardly even felt it, he'd been so singularly focused on making sure that Michael was alright. But now that he mentioned it, the adrenaline was starting to wear off and his vision was going a bit wonky. 

“Lay down, Private,” Michael teases, gently pushing him back on the bed before his expression grows more serious. “You can lay down your armor. Let somebody take care of you for a change.” 

“You know I’m a sergeant, right?” he says with a smirk, brushing past the rest of what Michael said. Alex has been working on himself a lot over the last two years, but he’s still not any good at accepting help. He’s not sure he’s ever going to be comfortable with it. He’s much more comfortable being the protector, the caretaker. 

Alex reaches out to grab onto the hand that was currently trying to strip him of his shirt. He just needs to touch him. Remind himself that Michael is really here. This isn’t some pain induced hallucination like before. Michael is here. He’s really okay. 

“I really did think you’d died,” Michael says. “When they first took you, I could still feel you, and then… it just stopped.” 

“The handprint faded,” Alex explains. “But I would never leave you.” 

He can feel the moment Michael tenses up as he begins dressing his wound. 

“That’s not a promise you’re able to make,” Michael says, and though he works to keep the emotion out of his voice, Alex can still hear it. 

Alex closes his eyes as he realizes what he’d said. Michael is used to everyone leaving him. Willingly or not, nobody ever sticks around. And they sure as hell never keep their promises. Hadn’t he told himself to stop making promises to Michael that he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep? 

“Fair. That’s… that’s fair,” he admits, refusing to get defensive like he always does. That’s something else he’s been learning. “But let me just say, I would never willingly leave you. And I fought like hell to get back to you. I always have. I always will.” 

Michael sniffs and tries to casually wipe his face as if he hadn’t been crying. As if Alex hadn’t witnessed him have a full blown breakdown a few minutes ago. 

“So, you finally going to admit that we’re back together or do I need to find us another life or death scenario to—” 

Alex cuts him off with a kiss. 

“That a yes then?” Michael teases when he pulls away. 

“Let’s finish patching each other up and get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning…” 

“But?” 

“But yes,” Alex says with a smile. “I almost lost you, too. I’m tired of waiting.”


End file.
